There were two occasions when Thing could recall being really unhappy. The first time was when his
mother left to go to hospital and didn’t return (although he still knew she
would one day) and the second was when the Wise Man came to town.
Thing still spent most of
his days standing on the ledge above his cave and watching the Horizon for his
mother. Some days he thought he could see her but it would only be a shadow
caused by the sun.
Sometimes he would treat
these shadows as being just part of life but on other days, and he wasn’t sure
why, he would take himself to the back of the cave and cry his heart away. None
of it ever made any sense to him. She
had gone to hospital and had promised to return.
On the days when Thing went
to school, he would slide down the mountain side, cross the road and walk as
silently as possible. Keeping to the sides so as not to attract too much
attention to himself. And for most parts the plan worked. If he was unlucky
enough to attract the attention of a larger boy, he would keep his head down
and walk fast. Sometimes they caught up with him and called him names. He was
called names that came - not from the children’s lips - but from the parents who had taught their children well in the
art of intolerance. Thing had realised that people weren’t born bullies, they
were made in homes.
But Thing still had inner
strength, all he had to do was remember that he was loved by his mother and he
found something deep inside which gave him courage.
Then one bright Friday, a
man who walked from town to town and told stories, came to where Thing called
home. He was staying at the house of one of the teachers and, as such, had been
invited to talk to the whole school, the parents and Thing (who was still waiting
on his mother).
The Wise Man talked of love
and of tolerance and of consideration and everyone smiled and nodded their
heads. But then he said that he had bad news and that it came from the Book Of
Records. You didn’t need to take his word for it, for it was written by the
Wise Ones before time and therefore it was the solid truth.
“Those who do not look like
us are an abomination. For this is an outward sign that they do not think like
us,” said the Wise Man while holding both his arms aloft. “And if they do not
think like us then they are an evil, and if they are evil then they must be
destroyed.”
Thing wasn’t sure what the
Wise Man meant but as he looked around he saw some of the bullies looking in
his direction. Thing wondered why anyone would write such things, or more
importantly repeat them.
The first rock hit Thing’s
head as he was crossing the road to go back up the mountain. It caused a little
bleeding but he knew if got home quickly he could wash it off. How he wished
his mother was here. The second rock hit him on the back of the head. He was
about to turn and see where it came from when he heard chanting of
‘evil…evil…evil..’ and somehow he knew they were talking about him.
He didn’t go to school after
the weekend instead he decided it was safer to stay in his cave. Except that
the Wise Man came up the mountainside on the Wednesday evening followed by a
crowd of people, adults as well as children. They had torches and signs that
said ‘Destroy those who do not look like us for they are evil’.
“We must rid the town of
this pestilence,’ said the Wise Man and everyone agreed. Thing moved to the
back of the cave and waited on the rocks.
“Help me, mother,” he
whispered under his breath.
Maybe she heard from where
ever she was or maybe she didn’t, but a group of people from the town, who
Thing had never seen before, came up and blocked the mouth of the cave telling
the Wise Man to go home as they were not leaving.
The Wise Man said they would
burn as well – it was then that one of the those guarding the cave mentioned
that Wise Man was wanted in the next State for causing destruction and that he
had deserted his own family.
People looked at the Wise
Man in a new light and wondered if they had been wrong about him.
“What about the Book Of
Records?” Shouted the Wise Man.
But by the then the
townsfolk had started to walk down the hill and go home.
bobby stevenson 2013
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